


What Difference Does it Make

by bunnystealsyourcarrots



Category: Harry - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, M/M, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6680677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnystealsyourcarrots/pseuds/bunnystealsyourcarrots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grown up Draco Malfoy's sadistic reputation proceeds him, and at a masked party he lives up to expectations.<br/>(Draco/Harry, Drarry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Difference Does it Make

The tip of his wand dragged across the strip of lace.

Two perfect shaped oval slits were now seared into the black fabric, and he smirked while holding it up.

 _This’ll do_  
________________________________________________________________________________________

“Draco Malfoy?”

“And your plus one?”

“Just me.”

“ID and invitation please.”

Despite his annoyance, the masked blonde patiently waited for the prim witch in her secretarial outfit to double check the necessary credentials. The gatekeeper to his pleasure certainly took her sweet time. Running her finger down a list of names, she mumbled until at last her tongue clicked.

“Ah, there you are.”

_Seriously? The Dark Mark on my arm didn’t tip you off?_

_Are there really that many platinum-haired wizards running around with homicidal arm accessories circa nineteen ninety-eight?_

Having learned the hard way that honey catches more flies, Draco didn’t scowl. Instead, he kept his cool. While handed parchment and a dagger, he continued to appear unaffected.

“Dab a spot of blood on the line, and you’re good to go. The rules have been explained to you then?”

Wincing as they blade stung true, Draco nodded.

“After I sign this, no name can past my lips until I leave. There can be no use of force, and absolutely no descriptions of the night will ever appear in print unless I’d care for a nasty curse.”

Running her tongue along her teeth the witch nodded. “Exactly, and we wouldn’t want that would we?”

“No," Draco replied. "I’m not much of a masochist.”

“Pity.”

One last cheeky sigh parted the witch's lips before she pointed her wand towards the massive doors behind her. A world that the twenty-seven-year-old wizard couldn’t wait to disrupt lay open before him and Draco welcomed all that he intended to take.

All that would be his for one night.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Inside the cavernous ballroom, pale candlelight glowed. The dim light flickered shadows across an array of exposed skin colors; the unrepentant sin in the room nourished Draco’s soul.

_Ah, it’s good to be back._

There was something for everybody at the party. What you wanted, was yours. A hum of excited noise thrummed around the large crowd, and Draco felt his pulse quicken with anticipation. That low vibration was the sound of hundreds of magical beings investigating curiously before feeling brave enough to sample the many pleasures the room offered. All those tasty treats that Draco fully intended to enjoy.

_Hmm, that’s quite an elaborate St. Andrews Cross there. Custom made by the look of it….I’ll see you later my lovely._

_That leather swing for three is not too shabby either._

_And are those twins?_

_Merlin, I love choices._

As Draco hung up his dress robes along the wall, his smirk broadened into something closer to a real smile. Without a touch of shame, he bared his chest as an ivory beacon of purity that contradicted his soul but did wonders for drawing eyes. Immediately stealing the attention of over half of the room as he sauntered through the crowd.

Daring them to tell him to leave.

Waiting for somebody to hiss.

Itching for some prat to find the nerve if only to point out that nobody in the room could claim the moral high ground that night. No, not when he noticed some gazes in the crowd flicking their attention towards his tattoo. Each pair of eyes widened first in recognition before they'd lick their lips, and he could guess what they thought. He could almost see them considering how a night with a former Death Eater might be the filthiest feather they’d ever place in their cap.

They weren’t entirely wrong.

By all accounts, Draco Malfoy lived to make strong witches beg for torture. The disgraced wizard tirelessly served up sordid filth when others lagged, and he prided himself on his reputation for intimately knowing the ins and outs of pain. For making an art of suffering.

He’d done it before.

He’d do it tonight.

Adjusting the thin lace ribbon across his eyes, Draco ignored familiar faces. Opting for a new thrill, he stalked towards the black leather swing in the corner. The intimidating restraint raised up in the air was already holding the most beautiful, naked sub ready to play.

Face down and willing, the man with his perfect shame waited.

 His eyes were cast low as netting dug into his abs, and unforgiving cuffs cut into his wrists. Trussed up in the swing like that only the tips of the man’s toes grazed the ground. He hung helpless, and when Draco approached he swore he heard the man sigh: a weighty exhale of relief that somebody had chosen to put him both into and out of his misery.

Leaning over, Draco spoke for his ears only, “Care to play?”

“Yes, sir.” the man responded.

“Hard limits?”

“Branding, pissing, and genital knife play.”

“Any requests?”

“Do your worst.”

_Try and stop me._

“Safe word.”

“Snitch,” the man murmured.

Draco chuckled. “Ah, the only thing able to stop everything good in the world.”

Only a few seconds later, a low hiss of air streaming from Draco’s wand wordlessly began the scene. The spray crossed the submissive's back, and muscles constricted with each pass. Tight, and slack, and lovely the sub proved responsive. Every inch of him was shivering already after Draco had only dried off lingering sweat - much preferring a blank canvas before painting it all red.

When at last the skin was prepped to his liking Draco stepped back. Tapping the end of his wand against his sharp jaw, he built tension. Mulling over all his many options, he took his time as the sub's feet clenched.

_A slashing spell could work…_

_Or even a subtle stinging hex..._

Sadistic spellwork was Draco Malfoy’s specialty. He could design nightmares using four words or less, but the sickest thrills were found in manual tasks. Exerting power with the feel of leather heavy in his grip could stir up a euphoria that couldn't be bottled, and so the blonde picked up a flogger from a side table.

_This’ll do._

Leftover pink paddle marks on the submissive’s ass showed that he was plenty warmed up, and so Draco didn't hold back. Straight out of the gate he hit hard, and precise. Rattling the swing’s chains with each blow, he rained down on the skin in time to the music.Back and forward, and brutal.

Bringing leather to flesh as the sub took it all so dutifully.

_Not one sound...hmm._

Draco continuously laid into him, finding a rhythm. Staggering the blows to keep control over emotions and noises out of the sub’s grasp, they each had their role, and trust built as skin bruised pink to red. Spiking pleasure to pain, they silently complimented each other. In and out, they breathed together, and a determined calm settled into Draco’s body. More than likely this very same sub had spit at him on the streets, but tonight he’d spit for him...and say thank you.

Twenty minutes later when his plaything still hadn’t greedily begged for an orgasm, Draco swallowed down everything perfect about the moment.

The challenge. The control. The stranger’s back quivering.

“You're scared?” he asked.

The sub shook his head.

“And what if I'd like you scared?”

“Whatever pleases you, sir.”

Scratching his nails down the man’s back, Draco smirked.

_Good answer._

Across the stranger’s back were numerous scars. Years of hard living were written so plainly in the flesh and Draco impulsively touched the proof. As his fingertips lightly brushed back and forth across the skin, he wondered where this man had been, what he’d done, and how hard he’d scream when he hit his breaking point. How much he’d beg.

“Are you a screamer, little sub?”

“If sir is so kind.”

Rolling his lips inward, Draco sucked. Tasting the sweat gathered, he felt like purring with pleasure as he set down the flogger to prove how very kind he could be. He chose a riding crop studded on the end, and the cruel toy was gently tapped up the sub’s spine for several beats. Teasing. Caressing. Allowing anticipation for the worst to build up before the dominant followed through with a violent crack.

The first hit swayed the sub’s body.

The second drew out a gasp.

And the third, the third broke the skin.

“Uh,” the sub choked back a sob.

“Ask me if you may you scream.”

“M-ay I scream, sir?” the sub wheezed.

“No, you may not.”

Anybody could see how the humbled sub’s head hung in shame. Nobody looked so pitiful, but everything else in the room blurred that wasn’t him, the dom, and the crop coming down. Nothing existed then that wasn’t pleasing the unyielding dominant who hadn’t offered any form of tenderness -the sadist whose kink the submissive was growing to cherish. There was nothing held back as he brought the sub to heel. Every smack was honest and true, and he could have wept over this beautiful intimacy that he could handle one blistering sting across his thighs at a time.

The hits that kept coming.

The voice ringing in his ears.

“Oh, you gorgeous sweet little thing.”

Taking and giving they found equality. The joy of supplication filled the sadist with a lightness in his soul as spittle dribbled messily down the man’s chin. Just the way he liked it.

“Harder, sir.”

“Greedy little thing aren't you?” Draco chuckled.

“Yes...sir.”

“Well so am I.”

Giving the sub’s already battered buttocks a harsh squeeze, Draco put him in place. Forgetting himself, the man cried out. He flailed in his bindings, but Draco’s nails only dug in deeper. Sinking his authority almost down to the bone right as the dominant spied a pool of pearly fresh insubordination on the ground.

“What have we here?” Draco tsked. “Did you ask for permission to cum?”

“No, sir.”

“No you did not,” Draco exhaled along the sub’s skin.”And here I thought you were such a good boy.”

“I'm sorry sir.”

“You will be.”

Sighing as though he were troubled, Draco made a meal of his disapproval. Taking steps away as if he meant to leave, he huffed, but before the man could whine the lashes started up again. Doubling down in excruciating pain almost too much to bear, he was ruthless, but nothing compared to when Draco softly kissed his shoulder.

“P-please sir, please,” the sub pitifully stuttered.

“Yes?”

“M-May I come, sir?”

“No.” his steely voice replied.

Bowing his head, the man nodded.

Tucking his arousal away to please somebody else, he was the ideal treat. Though his muscles quaked there were no more demands. There was no more hope for orgasm. All that remained were the dominant’s wishes for him to suffer, and as he did, Draco proudly wrapped his arms around the sub’s torso.

Whispering near his ear, “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” he rasped.

“What do you want? The crop, the whip, a paddle?”

“Whatever pleases you, sir.”

Draco’s lips curled. “I’d tell you that it hurts me more to watch you like this, but I’m fine that it hurts you more.”

Rearing his hand back he struck again, smacking violently enough that the sub nearly bit his lip in two. “Mmph.”

“You’re doing so well. So again, what do you want?”

“You...just you.”

“Me?”

“Fuck me, use me.”’

_With pleasure._

As long as Draco topped he didn't much care who was below nowadays. Wizard, or witch, or whatever got him off was good enough for him. Truthfully, nothing mattered aside from his desire to lose himself inside somebody else, and as Draco unlaced his breeches he supposed that made him an equal opportunity whore.

_Wouldn't daddy be proud?_

As he grinned so hard that his cheeks hurt, Draco loosened the cuffs around the sub’s wrists. Sliding metal free from leather, he effortlessly flipped the man over. One swift motion revealed a body corded thick with muscles, and up higher a face covered by a gold mask that still showed too much.

_Wait, I know those eyes._

_I’ve seen them before._

_Holy fuck._

_No. No. No._

“Po-er...uh”

Grunting out his annoyance, Draco tried again, “Pah...ah..er...Shit!”

_Stupid anonymous charm._

“Seriously?” Draco snarled. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Looking as if he’d been electrocuted, Draco stepped back. His icy blue eyes were wide and fiery as his mouth slackened. Disgust hit him in wave after wave after learning that he'd desired _Harry Fucking Potter_ of all people, and now there was no chance they’d play the scene through. Balling his hands at his side, Draco seethed with the loss, and as his stomach twisted he picked up his wand to go.

“I don't care.”

Draco blinked, sure that he'd heard him wrong.

“What?”

“I recognized your voice.”

“And you still want to-”

“Fuck yeah I do,” Harry gasped.

_Oh, you are one fucked up little martyr aren’t you?”_

Staring up at the ceiling, Draco snorted. Standing motionlessly in shocked awe, and absolutely tickled that somehow his adolescent dreams had come to life. That he had permission to screw The bloody Chosen One over, and Harry was pleading for it.

_This is my birthday and Christmas but with a dick I’m gonna suck dry_

Before any fickle changes of mind could pop up, Draco spit into his hand. In the crassest way possible, he moistened fingertips that swiftly slipped between his sub’s thighs, slowly guiding one then two inside. In and out, he loosened the passage with slick wet noises, and only when Harry’s erratic breaths steadied again did Draco stare intensely into his eyes. Keeping their connection linked as his cock replaced his fingers. Shaft buried down to the hilt with an unforgiving thrust that tore a cry from Harry’s throat.

_There you go my lovely._

Allowing them both an inhale, Draco waited. Buried inside the snug warmth that made his lip curl, but still as can be until Harry's nod gave him permission to continue. Clipping his hips forward into a steady rhythm, Draco slowly pistoned forward. Easing in shallow thrust after shallow thrust that were begrudgingly accepted at first, but once the submissive opened willing and ready for him nothing in the world felt better.

With parted lips they breathed in sync then, and the why and how were unimportant.

Nobody had come out of the war innocent. Everybody hardened one way or another, and if flirting with disaster got Harry’s jollys off then so be it. As long as they brought each other a glimmer of joy right then Draco wouldn’t judge when it felt this good.

So maddeningly perfect.

Breathing out hoarsely, Draco was already close. His abs tightening for release, his thighs shaking, but when their eyes met again an unexplainable need for it to be good for Harry washed over the dom. Gritting his teeth with a snarl Draco shifted his hips back, and reaching down his hand slid up and down Harry’s length. Stroking off the grateful sub until his back arched with a guttural whine.

“Hit me.”

_Oh, this really can’t get any better._

All his life, Draco fantasized about smacking the shit out of Harry Potter, and now here he was asking for it. Draco's palm ached to give into demands, but no longer a fan of following anybody’s orders he nipped Harry’s lip. “Shh, no more topping from the bottom, and you can cum.”

The good little obedient sighed as he closed his eyes, and Draco entered him again. Thrusting with everything he had, he fucked him ragged as a thank you. Using him as he pleased, praising him with pain, and when he pinched Harry’s cockhead the sub followed good advice. Moaning out loudly, he spurted out onto his belly, and Draco's own pleasure emptied out as he imagined him licking it off.

“Aah.”

“Thank you sir.”

Never dreaming that he’d hear that from Harry Potter of all people Draco smothered a laugh against his own shoulder. Honest to Gods, he could have died happily on the spot, but instead, his hips slid back. Parting the two men, and instantly dissolving away whatever fantasy they’d lived in for the past hour. Picking up his wand, Draco muttered, “Scourgify.”

All the time that he cleaned up the mess he purposefully avoided Harry’s gaze. Perhaps the man below him found it callous, but Draco was grateful for his mask's ability to maintain the illusion of detachment as he assumed that his eyes sparkled like some giddy bewitched teen.

_As if he doesn’t get that enough._

An unexpectedly disheveled Draco kept silent as he eased his trousers back up. Piece by piece he put himself back together, and only when he trusted himself to school his features into nonchalance did he chance a glance over towards a thoroughly shagged Harry. As biceps flexed, Draco's mouth twitched.

“Did I give you permission to get up?” he snapped.

“Uh, uh no sir” Harry stuttered, paused halfway between sitting. “I just thought-”

“Hmm, see thinking has never been one of your strong suits.”

For a split second, a flash of Harry’s famous former snark lit up his eyes. His cheeks reddened to contrast the green, but somehow he miraculously stayed quiet. Charmingly subservient again, he lay back, and Draco rewarded that fine behavior with a gentle kiss on the lips.

Purring, “By all means, get up.”

 It was the perfect time to discuss what transpired as they traded smiles. This was the time to debate why of all people they’d completed each other so naturally, light meeting dark. Yes, they could have so easily held each other for hours while piecing together why they both strongly desired another scene, but instead, Draco gave a quick nod before walking away.

Leaving their coupling simple, and uncomplicated.

Giving them both exactly what they needed that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Love to hear what you thought, even if it's "Where is Harry's aftercare?!!!!" 
> 
> Or, "Where is my Hogwarts invitation/invitation to this magical masked sex party?"
> 
> -Bunny


End file.
